


meadow

by petalless



Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, allusions to meadows in the minds eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalless/pseuds/petalless
Summary: Shizusumi loves meadows, no, Shizusumi loved meadows.He loved the air, the fresh smell of petrichor and grass. He’s comforted by the thought. When he tilts his head up to meet eyes with the sky, its crystalline blue depths stare back at him.And he thinks, isn’t the sky and the sea the same. They’re both deep and something wonderful.the unrequited yukiragi, not quite shizuragi hanahaki au that i refer to as my wip on many occasions
Relationships: Kashima Hiiragi/Yagi Shizusumi, Unrequited Kashima Hiiragi/Yoshida Yuuki, implied Satou Mafuyu/Yoshida Yuuki
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	meadow

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a wip for far too long and ended out a bit short of what i aimed for but lets go! also this was originally for shizuragi week but *scratches head* i didnt make it

Shizusumi dreams of clouds, soft flower petals and sparkling dewdrops. He dreams of soft meadows dotted with flowers. He dreams of Hiiragi.

It comes as a surprise when he wakes up to Hiiragi's back.

He hears Hiiragi's strained breaths and half-hidden coughs and wonders why people dive headfirst into pain. He wonders why he dives headfirst into pain.

The silence is like the meadows he dreamed of. Dotted with flowers.

"Hiiragi," he whispers.

Hiiragi turns to face him with his elbow covering his mouth. Shizusumi pretends he doesn't notice the painfully obvious trail of narcissus petals falling down the side of his neck.

He longs to dust off the petals and press kisses akin to ambrosia petals to Hiiragi's forehead.

To Shizusumi, pain is easy. All he needs to do is go to the corner of his mind filled with thoughts reminiscent of Hiiragi. He doesn’t expect it to hurt so much.

“I love Yuki.”

* * *

Hiiragi directs his eyes towards the empty vase perched on the ornate table in the corner. He squints at the framed picture of a meadow over it. The only source of light in the room is the glow emanating from Shizusumi’s laptop screen. 

“I’m fine,” the words slip from his mouth carelessly.

Shizusumi only continues eyeing the symptoms warily, stealing glances in Hiiragi’s direction.

“No, you aren’t.”

_ Fatigue, red-rimmed eyes, coughing up flower petals. _ He feels something vile churning in his stomach. 

His eyes alight on the section of the article about the cure. 

_ “Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings.” _

There were tears forming in Hiiragi’s eyes. Unlike the flowers, they didn’t fall. They sparkled like the dewdrops he’d subconsciously relate with Hiiragi’s presence. 

Shizusumi shakes off the unsettling thoughts about Hiiragi and flowers. He has no part in this. He’s just there for support. Nothing more. He’d be lying to himself if he believed in that little glimmer of hope that sparkled like the tears in Hiiragi’s eyes and now, his own.

“I don’t want to let go of them,” Hiiragi says with tears making their way down his face. They remind Shizusumi of falling stars sending streaks of brilliant light as they alight across the sky, then disappearing into the inky black expanse.

* * *

Shizusumi knows that Hiiragi keeps the flowers that are killing him slowly. He knows about the glass jars filled to the brim with flower petals. Every time he sees them, he wants to shatter them. He wants to watch the flowers brim out of the glass shards. They’re both deadly in their own right.

Every other night, Hiiragi cries into the crook of Shizusumi’s neck. Shizusumi only puts his arm around him and wishes he could do more. Seeing Hiiragi cry breaks him inside and it hurts more when he knows he can’t do anything except lend him his shoulder to cry on.

He hates himself. Every time he sees Hiiragi subtly drop flowers to the floor or put them into his pocket he feels anger, white-hot and scalding.  _ Why? _ He thinks to himself sometimes. 

Slowly, Shizusumi’s thoughts about Hiiragi are overwhelmed by his feelings of deep inadequacy. He hates it.

* * *

Shizusumi notices everything about Hiiragi. 

He notices the way Hiiragi’s walls crumble in his arms. He notices Hiiragi’s pained smile when someone asks him about the flowers. He notices Hiiragi’s sad smile when he sees Mafuyu and Yuki together.

He misses Hiiragi’s soft smile. He misses when Hiiragi smiles so wide he can see crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He misses Hiiragi’s laugh. 

He misses everything about Hiiragi that the flowers erased.

* * *

Shizusumi watches the raindrops drip across Hiiragi’s window. He hears the soft sounds of the rain falling against the streets outside and onto the umbrellas held over people’s heads as they walk. 

He hears Hiiragi’s soft sobs behind him. He’s the only person who’s seen this side of Hiiragi. 

Shizusumi will always treasure him.

Hiiragi’s question is sudden like the flowers. It cuts into the silence like a knife.

“Shizu-chan, have you ever been in love?”

Shizusumi can feel the dampness on the back of his shirt and the tips of Hiiragi’s dyed hair brush against his neck. He chooses not to answer.

Hiiragi picks up on Shizusumi’s silence and stays quiet. 

They stay like that until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sounds of the rain. 

This time, Shizusumi doesn’t dream of soft meadows and clouds. He dreams of Hiiragi and flowers except the flowers aren’t soft. The flowers aren’t for him. The flowers are for Yuki.

* * *

Shizusumi was there.

He was there when Mafuyu called Hiiragi up to tell him that Yuki was gone. 

Hiiragi’s hand is balled up in Shizuzumi’s shirt and holds his phone to his ear in the other. Shizusumi doesn’t have to look closely to know Hiiragi’s fighting back tears. 

He wonders how Mafuyu’s faring if Hiiragi’s this bad. 

Hiiragi hangs up. 

His hand falls to his side and Shizusumi swears he’s never wanted to hold another person’s hand this much in his entire life. 

He tries to conjure up a scene where everything is fine. A scene where Hiiragi’s happy. He hates seeing Hiiragi in pain. The meadow in the corner of his mind that was his refuge is overrun with weeds. He can’t rely on it to distract him anymore. 

“What do I do now.”

Hiiragi’s voice is broken glass. The sharp shards stab into Shizusumi’s heart painfully and he wants to pull them out. Except he can’t.

“Yuki’s gone.”

* * *

Yuki’s funeral has passed and Hiiragi is once again lying against Shizusumi’s back. He knows he’s there because of the warmth. Hiiragi doesn’t cry this time, though. 

Hiiragi’s hand lays carelessly on his pillow and Shizusumi wants to take it in his. If only Hiiragi would let him.

Shizusumi would do anything for Hiiragi if he let him.

_ I love you _ , he wants to say, and he almost does. The words just get lost somewhere along the way. 

“I’m going to get the surgery.”

Shizusumi doesn’t say anything. It’s better to let go of something like that than to hold onto it.  _ It’s better to drop it _ , he thinks. The next time Shizusumi sees Hiiragi is in the hospital.

Hiiragi’s gaze is on the ceiling. Never on Shizusumi, always somewhere else. Even though the only person Shizusumi is always looking at is Hiiragi. 

Is he a moth? Stupid enough to be attracted to the flame that can kill him in a second. Maybe, but only because Hiiragi shines brighter than any fire. He can’t help being drawn in. 

He wonders if Hiiragi will keep the jars of flowers stashed under creaky floorboards. He wonders if Hiiragi will dip his hand into one and think about how he was growing something beautiful out of his pain all this time. He wonders if Hiiragi will regret getting them removed. 

* * *

Hiiragi had always loved Shizusumi. 

Whenever he fell, it was Shizusumi that helped him. Shizusumi knew the most tender parts of him. 

And even so, Shizusumi wasn’t the one he loved the most. It was Yuki. 

Yuki with all his warmth and love and brightness. 

He loved Yuki’s smile, except, it was only ever directed towards him once. 

The flowers nod, a gentle motion. 

_ You are in love but aren’t loved back.  _

* * *

He picks up a flower and Yuki is the petals, the first to wither away. Shizusumi is the subtle sepals supporting the flower, so subtle that the petals outshine them.

* * *

Shizusumi loves meadows, no, Shizusumi loved meadows. 

He loved the air, the fresh smell of petrichor and grass. He’s comforted by the thought. When he tilts his head up to meet eyes with the sky, its crystalline blue depths stare back at him. 

And he thinks, isn’t the sky and the sea the same. They’re both deep and something wonderful. 

He would give Hiiragi the sky and the sea if only he asked. 

Ever since Hiiragi’s throat had become a garden for the flowers that once adorned his meadow. It’s getting dimmer, bleaker. 

And when he lifts his eyes to meet the once-serene sky, it’s gone. Replaced with dark, tumultuous clouds with something foreboding about them. 

The daffodils are wilting, the grass isn’t as dewy. The sun’s warm rays are gone. 

He gets the flowers back, but he doesn’t want them the way he’s offered them.

Hiiragi is his meadow, but he isn’t Hiiragi’s.

* * *

_ If you aren’t loved back, why aren’t you coughing up flowers like he is? _

The voice hisses from the back of his mind, a nook in the long overgrown meadow. Slowly, the sun rises from where it’s been hiding and the meadow is brighter, less dark. The flowers look up hopefully.

The sun pauses in its tracks and darkens.

_ “I’m going to get the surgery.” _

The sun sets again on his meadow, he didn’t deserve to have it. He feels sorry for the flowers, drooping slowly as the sun moves away without as much as a backward glance.

* * *

Hiiragi feels lighter, lighter than he expected.

But again, he’s just let go of a garden. A garden he’s been growing silently. 

* * *

Shizusumi looks down at the flowers he holds in his palms and wonders if he should’ve talked Hiiragi out of the surgery. 

_ No _ , he shakes his head. He’s taking up Hiiragi’s pain, Hiiragi’s feelings somehow. Hiiragi loved him, but not enough. 

It was his fault, he reasons, though he can’t say why. His fault for not being as good as Yuki. 

Hiiragi keeps the flowers, as a reminder. 

A reminder of Yuki. A reminder of Shizusumi, who still loves him.

Shizusumi, who takes over Hiiragi’s garden, tending to it carefully. Tending to it better than he ever could. 

Shizusumi, whose meadow has been replaced with a garden of pain. 

* * *

You are Shizusumi Yagi, in love with Hiiragi Kashima, a boundless meadow that you’ve left behind in lieu of taking over his garden. 

A garden that you never knew was for you as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> you have reached the end, hope u enjoyed! + thank u [ivo](https://twitter.com/iwaizillas) for proofreading this twice ilysm / [twitter](https://twitter.com/eitaful/status/1301208108417646592)


End file.
